


What Might Have Been

by Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-19 07:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18132923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces/pseuds/Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces
Summary: Cannon Divergence AU - Mme Giry insists that Erik meet Christine "face to face" so to speak instead of letting him build that mirror contraption. However, she never intended for that to lead to a budding friendship between her two charges, nor does she accept responsibility for those others who come to share in their lives.However, the Opera Ghost seems to be getting pinned for something far more sinister than tormenting divas when some deadly accidents occur at the Opera Populaire. It's up to, as Mme Giry calls them, "The Golden Trio" to prove Erik's innocence before he's the one on the end of someone's rope.Mostly Lloyd-Webber based with hints to Kay and Leroux verse.Told as "short stories" as opposed to chapters until the "action" starts.Alternately titled: Christine and Raoul adopt Erik as their over-grown-man-child AU.





	1. Preface

The scream rang out from one of the tents. It was high in pitch, and Nadir began to think carefully about exactly which tent it had come from. He didn’t have long to think before it rang out again.

 “I’ll go this way,” he raised his hand to point towards where he thought the scream came from.

“Need backup,” one asked. 

Nadir shook his head and went off running. “We’ll be too late if we don’t split up.” 

The three men ran into the three closest tents. 

Nadir pulled aside the tent flap, and he cautiously poked his head inside the tent. It was impossibly dark, but he could hear the gentle soft whimpers coming from somewhere in this tent. As he passed through it, he noticed that there were several empty cages in this one. He wished he had a lantern and light, but he had nothing of the sort. 

His hand brushed a sign that he could just make out saying “Les Phénomènes.” 

He shuddered when the whimpers seemed to be getting louder; and, if he wasn’t mistaken, they sounded as if they were just behind him. 

He turned around, and he walked towards the sound. 

The scream rang out again. “Don’t come! I can’t find it!” 

His keeper must have run off when he heard the gendarme coming. 

Well, that was what he thought until he stepped through the cage door. 

Nadir almost tripped over the corpse lying near the cage opening. He was shocked to find a bit of rope strung round the neck of the man. He felt for the man’s wrist, and he found a long whip still gripped in the man’s hand. He found no pulse in the limp wrist. 

“What is your name?” Nadir asked the shadow that was still crying. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

He reached out, but he could hear the rustling in the sawdust and straw beneath them. 

So, he kneeled and waited. “It’s okay. Did you kill him?” 

“I-I didn’t … I didn’t mean it.” The cries heightened in pitch and intensity. 

“Did he try to hurt you?” Nadir took the risk of coming closer to the child. 

For, now, he was certain he was dealing with a child. 

“He-he wanted to beat me, and he said he would kill me. M. he said the gendarme were coming. If they see …” the child began to choke on his tears again. 

Nadir chose to remain silent, but he risked reaching out and taking the sobbing child into his arms. 

The child almost tried to pull away, but the small shadow of a thing did not. Instead, Nadir rested his head upon the thinly haired head. He reached to wipe away the tears from the boys eyes, and his own widened. His fingers were met with paper thin skin, but only on one side of the child’s face. He wasn’t sure what would have happened had his first glimpse of the countenance been in the light.

The boy was still crying into his shoulder, and he realized they needed to leave. This boy would surely be accused of the murder of his captor. 

_Perhaps rightly so …_ He thought for only a moment. _You old fool! If he is to blame for this, you are unfit for your position. You would accuse a child of murder when it was clearly self defense. Even in death, that wretch refused to drop his crop._

Nadir picked up the child. He was still uncertain of how old the small being was, and it was impossible to tell by voice alone if he was cradling a young boy or girl. 

Nadir snuck back to one of the gendarme carriages with stealth. He laid the boy in the back, and he sprung into the driver’s seat. 

“She will help me. She owes me.” 

 

_________

 

Mme Giry did not expect Nadir at half past two in the morning holding the shivering body of what appeared to be a young child. 

“Grant me entrance, and I swear you owe me nothing more.” He held out his hand.

She smiled and took it. “Deal.” 

Nadir came into the apartment. “Is Meg asleep?” 

“Fast asleep as I can get a two month old.” She smiled. 

“Once again, quite sorry about the fate of your husband so recently after Meg’s birth too.” He looked around the room to set his charge on. 

Her smile faltered if only for a moment. “As am I.” 

“Mme. The lake house beneath the Opera is still unoccupied yes?” Nadir asked. 

“To my knowledge, but what on Earth do you want it for?” She motioned towards her sofa. 

“I have a special charge for you.” He whispered as he laid the boy on the sofa she offered him. 

She nearly gasped when she saw the boy. For, upon looking at him more closely, Nadir and Mme Giry could clearly see that the child was a little boy. 

“His … you found him in the raid on the circus didn’t you?” She covered her mouth with her hand. 

The boy was fast asleep and hadn’t stirred. 

“Killed his captor,” Nadir whispered to her. “I was afraid if others found him that he would be charged worse because of his face. It was self-defense from what I was able to observe.” 

“How?” She didn’t once remove her eyes from the still figure on her sofa. 

“Strangled the man,” Nadir shuddered. “He was petrified when I found him. I don’t think … I don’t think he knew what he was doing. His captor had a vice grip on a whip. Judging from what I saw of his back, which I could barely see, I’d say the damage is extensive.

MmeGiry didn’t take her from the sleeping child. “He’ll stay here then. At least, until he can walk quickly and silently. I do agree with your assessment, Nadir. The underground of the Opera would be good for him.” 

“We should let him rest.”

 

_________

 

It was nearing five in the morning when Mme Giry woke to the sound of his whimpering. 

She was not surprised when she found that Nadir was already at the boy’s side. 

“Fever,” he whispered looking at her. “I’m not sure when it set in. By the touch, it seems maybe an hour ago?” 

She nodded and began to remove the threadbare and sweat-soaked shirt that just barely clung to the child’s shoulders. This small gesture caused the boy to shudder, and she replaced the shirt quickly with an old knitted blanket from the sofa. It was all she had, at the moment, and she wished it were warmer. 

Nadir pulled the blanket up to the boy’s chin. He tucked it swiftly around the shaking shoulders. He struggled to wipe the image of the protruding ribs from his mind’s eye. He hushed the boy, and he cupped his hand around the back of the child's head. He placed the boy on his shoulder to muffle the child’s cries a bit. The last thing they needed was Meg waking. 

Mme Giry returned with a basin filled with cool water and a towel. “We have to bring the fever down. Did he have open wounds when you found him?” 

“None that I could tell. I think he stopped his captor before he received another beating.” He wiped the back of the child’s neck before moving to wash the boy’s face. 

The second the rag touched the paper-like skin on the right side of the scarred face, the child screamed. His hands flew up as though he’d been hit, and the boys body was wracked with trembling. 

“I’m sorry. Where is it? I lost it?” 

The words were clear to Nadir and Giry even when they were slightly slurred by the child’s delirium. 

Nadir hung his head and began to collect the child in his arms. “What did you lose?” 

“The sack. I need it. They say my face …” the child gasped slightly wrapping his arms around his stomach. 

The boy ground his teeth hard, and Nadir quickly massaged the left jaw to get him to loosen the clench. He also quickly moved the boy to his side, and he positioned the small form so his head was facing the floor. 

“Easy, easy, don’t hold back. Don’t hold back, easy.” He rubbed the boy’s back as he supported him. 

The heaving was dry, but Mme Giry held an empty basin, that seemed to materialize from her skirts, out to him. Both Nadir and Mme Giry laid the boy back after the fit passed, but the child still shook violently. 

“My face … it’s the devil’s face. Devil’s face … demon … can’t … you shouldn’t touch me. The curse …” His body trembled and thrashed as he spoke. 

Nadir loosely held the child so the thrashing wouldn’t cause him to fall from the sofa.

Mme Giry had strategically began to wipe the back of the child’s neck and the left side of his face only. She began to work the water through his thin and matted hair on the left side. He seemed too old and too young to have hair so like an infant's or an old man’s. 

It seemed the hair on the right side of his head never grew. She thought, perhaps it did, but it only grew like the soft hair on babies or the down of ducks. 

He seemed, by her observation, to settle after a moment, but his shivering did not. 

“He’s dehydrated,” Nadir muttered. “If you would, fetch him some water.” 

She nodded her agreement, and she came back quickly with a glass. 

Mme Giry nudged the boy’s left cheek with her thumb. “We have water for you. Can you drink a sip?” 

The child groaned and tried to sit. Mme Giry helped him up against the sofa.

Nadir held the glass up to the boy’s lips. “Slow sips. Even if you want more, just take it nice and easy.” 

Mme Giry was pleased with how the boy seemed happy when the cool water went down his throat. However, not a second later, the child’s face seemed to contort with pain. 

He looked as though he were in anguish. 

Nadir held the basin out, and the child vomited again. However, this time, the water seemed to be mixed with something. 

Mme Giry noticed the little flakes first. “Is that sawdust?” 

Nadir’s eyes widened slightly as he hurriedly tried to get the boy to take more water. 

The boy seemed to want to refuse, but he still took it. 

Mme Giry was ready this time, and she held him fast in her arms as the water brought up more sawdust. 

The particles weren’t large, but there seemed to be an alarming amount. Somehow, she knew it was there to stop his hunger. It was painfully apparent he wasn’t being fed, and he wasn’t drinking water causing him to be unable to pass the substance. 

The unlikely trio spent the better part of an hour in that same manner. Mme Giry humming a soft ballet tune under her breath as Nadir coaxed him to take more water. Nadir eventually turned to speaking softly in his native Arabic. Though Mme Giry had never learned the language, he seemed to be reciting a story or a poem to the child. 

The boy eventually seemed to fall asleep against Giry’s shoulder. He had finally managed to keep down a sip of the water without it coming back immediately. 

“Love,” Mme Giry tucked a strand of the thin hair behind the boy’s left ear. “We’re going to have you lie down now.” 

He didn’t make a sound, but the left side of his face was lined with pain. 

“Do you know the time?” Nadir asked. 

“No, I have no idea.” She pulled the forgotten blanket around the boy’s shoulders. “Does he have a name that we know?” 

“No, I never had a chance to ask him.” Nadir tucked the knitted blanket around the boy’s shoulder tightly. 

“Do you think he has one,” she asked. 

“I’m not sure.” He shook his head. 

Nadir placed a hand along the back of the boy’s neck. He was still running a fever, but it didn’t seem as bad as it had hours earlier. 

“We’ll leave him to rest.” She placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

 

___________

 

It was about a day later that Erik remembered waking up on the sofa. The first thing he was aware of was that it was light, and he was not on the hard metal floor of his cage. 

The second was that he was not wearing the sack cloth over his face. 

It was the second observation that caused him to scream. 

A light brown skinned man, maybe in his late twenties, sat down next to him. His expression was worried. “Are you in pain?” 

Erik shook his head. “Where is it?” 

The man looked confused for a moment. Then, the man was struck with realization. “The sack?” 

Erik nodded. “Please, I need it!” 

“My friend, the person who owns the house, is bringing a replacement today. For your comfort only, if you’d rather, I don’t mind letting you run about with out it.” Erik couldn’t help but notice that the man’s voice was soothing and had a strange accent. 

“But, didn’t I curse you? They said I was a plague, and women should turn away from me lest they want to have children who look like me. They said I could kill a man just by looking at them.” The boy trembled. 

The man wrapped his arms around Erik. He placed his chin on top of the his head and rocked him. “Now, a logical young thing like you that thinks well under pressure believes all that?” 

“My mother said it. The priest who wouldn’t baptize me said it.” Erik covered his eyes. “It must be true.” 

The man next to him seemed to stiffen. “Sometimes, even the people who should be right, are wrong.” 

Erik peaked up at the man next to him. “You … you aren’t afraid of me? Even after …” 

“No.” The man shook his head. “No.” 

A woman rushed into the room with a whole host of bags. “Nadir, sorry, it took me well longer at the Opera than I thought.” 

Erik was curious now. He quickly and quietly approached the woman with all the bags. 

She turned around, and her face split into a surprised smile. 

“Bless me!” She placed a hand over her heart. “You’re walking and sneaking about as if nothing happened.” 

Erik cast a long look at her. He was confused why she was so happy to see him about her home. 

“Why?” He asked with slightly furrowed brows. 

“You were so ill these last few days. You probably don’t recall.” She knelt next to him and moved to stroke his hair. 

He flinched back, and he watched her hand drop to her side. 

The man, Erik couldn’t remember his name, watched. He pulled a small orange from one of the bags and offered it to Erik.

“Eat,” the man commanded. 

Erik’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

The man nodded, and Erik smiled. 

He sat himself on the floor and began to pick at the peel. He’d never smelled something so wonderful. Once the peel was removed, he sank his teeth into the soft and juicy fruit. He licked his lips slightly. But, he paused when his tongue passed over the cleft lip on the right side. But, he was hungry, and he felt nothing could stop him from finishing his little present from the strange man. 

He noticed the two adults were watching him closely. They seemed scared of something unknown to him. But, he remembered them saying he’d been ill.

“How long was I ill?” He cocked his head to one side so the more human side of his face faced them. 

“Three days.” The woman placed a glass of water next to him. 

“Oh,” he said with a slightly solemn air. 

“You gave us a fright the second night when you could hardly sleep because of the night terrors.” The man knelt next to him. “They will be punished. It’s why we go after them.” 

“You’re one of the gendarme?” Erik’s eyes widened in fear. “Then, you’ll have to arrest me right? You saw … you saw what I did.” 

“No, I will tell my fellows you ran off. Mme Giry,” he gestured to the woman, “has a proposition for you.” 

“I would like to take you to the Opera. There is a lake with an island in the basement. I seem to recall in your feverish state you said you like music. I would be able to care for you there. No one else would know, but the three of us. For, I doubt my little Meg will remember you sharing her home for a brief time.” 

Erik weighed his options. It would be much safer than becoming a gamin in the streets, and his “like” for music was an understatement. 

“Yes,” he said. “But, how will we get there? I won’t leave until I’m sure I won’t hurt or curse others. I’m sorry to have cursed you.” 

His voice was choked a bit as he wiped his eyes. 

The woman looked at the other man puzzled. He waved her off as if to say he’d explain another time. 

She began to very slowly offer him a bag of clothing. 

“They’ll all be big since they’re for the adult performers. Though, you are quite tall now that I have gotten a better look at you.” 

He looked into the little bag. The first thing he found was a long black cape. 

“It’s summer now, but you’re so thin that I couldn’t help wanting to prevent you from catching a chill.” 

He went back in to the bag and pulled out a soft white shirt. It would be big on him, but it was so light. He immediately put it on and buttoned it. 

Erik was delighted to find real pants and not the sack cloth shorts he was currently sporting. He found some new underclothes as well. But, the thing that, perhaps, both delighted and hurt him most was the white mask at the bottom. 

“I’m not sure how well it will fit,” she ventured. 

He immediately put it on, and it was a bit large on his gaunt childish face. But, he loved it.

He half stumbled to this mysterious and wonderful woman. He embraced her knees excitedly, but he thought better of it and retreated. 

“It’s settled then,” the man stated. 

“What is your name? I need something to call you.” The woman took his hands in hers, and he surprised both of them when he didn't pull away. 

“Erik.” He smiled back. 

“Well, tomorrow we will make the basement of my home your new home.” She embraced him back gently before letting him pull away again. 

“For tonight, you will take a bit more time to rest and gather your strength. In the morning, Mme Giry will help you move in.” 

Eirk was too exhausted to ask them to remind him of their names. So, he resolved to call them “Mme” and “The Persian” until he remembered to ask them. 

“Would you like to remove the mask to sleep?” Mme asked. 

“No,” he yawned. “It’s perfect.” 

“Goodnight then.” She left the room. 

Once he was certain she left, he slipped the mask off. He couldn’t bear to hurt her more than he had already. 


	2. First Meetings

Christine bounced excitedly back and forth. Mme Giry had said that she was going to meet her Angel of Music tonight in the chapel. She was eagerly waiting for her Angel, but ten year olds only have so much patience. 

She was anxiously awaiting the Angel’s arrival. The tutors at the Opera were boring, but, if her father’s tails were true, the Angel would be exciting. She soon found herself behaving in the least ladylike manner as she paced around and rocked on her heals. 

She made faces at herself in the window, but she never left the room. Mme Giry had told her that she wasn’t to leave the room no matter how long it took the Angel to come. However, she was bored so she hummed a song to entertain herself. She never really liked silence and preferred to make her own noises if no one else was going to. 

Mme had told her a few funny things about her angel. Such as, how he might not want to see her up close, and he would probably wear a white mask. 

She did not question her Angel’s choice of fashion, but she did look at Mme Giry with a rather confused expression. 

Mme Giry had scolded her and told her not to make that face around the Angel lest she scare him off with her curiosity. 

To her it felt like a whole eternity had passed, she was still bored. Yet, her logical brain knew she’d only been waiting at most fifteen minutes. Still, it had felt like hours, no lifetimes, to her. 

Suddenly, a door creaked open. 

It was only Mme Giry.

“He’s ready to meet you,” she whispered. 

Christine perked up at the sound of near silent footsteps behind her instructor. 

The first thing she noticed was that he was tall. She also noticed that he liked to fidget too. He rocked on his ankles just like she did. But, Mme Giry didn’t tell him to sit still, but she didn’t ask Christine to stop moving right now either. 

For a time, she and the masked man in front of her stood in complete silence save for the slight rustling of her skirts as she rocked on her heals. 

Mme Giry excused herself, but she seemed happy the two of them were together. 

The masked man eventually sat down on the floor in front of her, and she decided to copy his movement. 

He cocked his head to the right so that the unmasked part of his face showed more. She smiled and did the same, but she mirrored him. 

She saw him smile a little. 

They sat for awhile in the stillness, and she just took him all in. He wore all black. He even wore a long black cape. She couldn’t help but notice it looked a lot like the one M. Piangi wore in his last performance. She kept thinking about how very tall the man in front of her was. 

Obviously, he looked taller when he was standing, but she could still see how long his legs were even when they are folded beneath him. 

She could also tell that he was very thin and small. She noticed that the man has not taken off the white mask that covered half his face, and she stared at it. But, then she remembered what Mme said, and looked at his shoes instead. They were shiny and black. 

She scooted closer to him before whispering “Do you talk?” 

He smirked at her. “Yes, I speak.” 

“Oh. Okay.” She scooted back. 

The man laughed a little, and she noticed he seemed to be looking at her closely too. 

“I’m Christine. I’m ten. My father was a violinist in the orchestra. My teachers are morons.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

He laughed hard, and his laugh boomed through the chapel. His laugh hitched slightly, but she could tell he was laughing. He had a loud laugh, and she liked it. His laugh sounded a little like music. She wanted to keep making him laugh. 

“Mme says that I shouldn’t say things like that because it’s not ladylike, but I’m glad you agree.” She grinned. 

He laughed harder wiping the eye that was not masked with a gloved finger. “Oh, my dear, we will get along splendidly.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter, but I couldn't risk cheapening the punchline by making it longer. 
> 
> Gosh, I love these two. 
> 
> I would say this one is probably more ALW compliant, but others will be less so. The three "universes" (Kay, ALW, and Leroux) have a tendency to get "tangled up" in my head so to speak; and I, as all writers, have my own thoughts and interpretations of the characters. 
> 
> I'll try to remember to put which "universe" inspired each writing at the end. 
> 
> Oh, I am also not above leaving Easter Eggs to random works I like/things that inspire the chapter in story. I always write what they are at the end. There weren't any in this one.

**Author's Note:**

> Nadir will be in the story more, but I just love him. I tried to imagine what he'd be like if he was in the Lloyd Webber universe, still sore that he wasn't, and this is what I came up with. 
> 
> I also love Mme Giry. Though, I just wished she'd had a little more common sense and foresight, and, as director of this story, I can give that to her. 
> 
> I realized when watching the production again that we don't actually get to see much of Erik's escape from the circus in the Lloyd Webber universe. So, I added my thoughts on it to this story. 
> 
> The next "short story" will be when Christine and Erik actually meet, but I was thinking about this and really wanted to include it.


End file.
